


we were the best of worst ideas, darling

by copperiisulfate



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: M/M, Rough Body Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-25
Updated: 2014-05-25
Packaged: 2018-01-26 10:09:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1684544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/copperiisulfate/pseuds/copperiisulfate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s got that look in his eye, the one that's one hundred and ten percent bad news but also makes Reisi’s mouth go one hundred and ten percent dry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we were the best of worst ideas, darling

They wind up like this, again and again, after this fight or that scuffle, separated from their clans amidst the smoke and sirens.

He spins in the air like a dancer and it’s kind of maddening, rises like smoke, disappears and reappears just as fast, but they’re evenly matched by some odd twist of luck. Or likely, it’s just the universe’s cruel sense of humour, and so, Reisi can more than keep up.

It ends with Suoh’s back to a wall, brick the colour of his hair, and no, he hasn't admitted defeat but he’s got that look in his eye, the one that's one hundred and ten percent bad news but also makes Reisi’s mouth go one hundred and ten percent dry. His pupils are blown, Reisi notes. It’s the only thing that registers, and everything about this is laughable. It’s got to be by far the worst joke the universe has played on him: this boy and the lines of him, and how they fit against Reisi's own, how they should repel, and they do, as a rule, in damned near every way but  _this_.

And this is another game, another fight in its own right, all pulse and reflex and adrenaline, hit for hit, move for move, beat for beat and breath for breath.

Reisi grabs his wrists, has both of them pinned to the wall with a hand and Suoh Mikoto grins, catlike. It's a bit like trying to hold on to a hurricane with a fishing net but made a little easier because the hurricane also wants to play.

Reisi goes for his neck with his other hand, ends up with his fingers curling around his jaw, pulling him in, and Suoh groans into the kiss. He’s flush against Reisi, and they’re a match, in height, in strength, in every which way except the one that means anything, bracketing hip to hip, close enough for friction and Reisi has him in place, has him where they both want him to be.

He pulls away, less than half an inch before Suoh's got his lower lip between his teeth, follows Reisi’s movement back to cover his mouth, surges forward till Reisi feels the jolt at every point of contact, heat all over, every nerve singing to the tips of his fingers and his toes.

Reisi says his name, pulling away, again, further, breathless, and Suoh scowls at the loss of contact, says, "Gonna screw up this one damn thing too?"

His hand has come free, just one; the other is still in Reisi’s grasp though neither has any idea why since Reisi's grip went slack some time ago. 

"Or, here's a suggestion," Reisi says, all mock-irritation. "You could _stop talking_."

The free hand goes to Reisi’s hair and tugs at it, yanks it back till his chin is up and his throat is exposed.

"Works for me," Suoh breathes more than says, and bites into the skin, hard enough to burn and almost,  _almost_  break but not quite. It will leave a mark. Reisi, in spite of himself, looks forward to it, tightens his hold on Suoh's wrist in response, skims over the skin of Suoh’s stomach with the other, grazes the waistband of his jeans, and lower, to lay flat against their front.

Suoh lets out a chuckle at the touch, even through layers of cloth, bright and light and breathless, angles sharply into Reisi’s hand, breath catching again as his fingers curl around the fabric. Suoh’s trying to kiss him but his aim is  _disastrous_ , made even worse by how Reisi keeps fucking up his rhythm, and grins to himself for every time the back of Suoh’s head tips back against the wall. He's a portrait of disarray, which isn't all that far off from his usual but, something about this version is better, more satisfying, because his loss of control is directly proportional to Reisi's hands on him.

It's always uncomfortably unsettling how good they are at this, because they are--or  _have gotten--_ frighteningly, hilariously good at it. Reisi thinks that it may very well be the only thing they can do together that, figuratively speaking, they don't fuck up. If they’re speaking literally,  _well_ \--

And he’s coming closer and closer; they both are, because the look on his face and his erratic breathing is almost enough to send Reisi over the edge. All it takes is a touch, Reisi bypassing the denim and one precise, steady stroke of his fingers, skin on skin, and Suoh’s shaking in his arms, gasping into his mouth, practically clawing at his skull with both hands now. And another, final, drawn out drag of Reisi's hand against him, and he’s swearing at the sky above, harsh and breathy, and Reisi follows not more than a second after.

Suoh's still got his head tilted back and Reisi's forehead rests against his jaw, can feel the shift of his chest when he breathes, the vibration under his skin when he hums a laugh, brief, but loose and easy. And this is where the ground gets dangerous and these are the things Reisi has memorized against his own better judgment. Reisi's breath stills on his neck. Another second and he'll exhale, wipe his hand on the handkerchief in his pocket, fix up his uniform and stand straight once again. 

"You gonna pretend again like it never happened?" His voice is a rumble in the night and it still sends a shiver down Reisi's spine.

 _That’s never really done much good_ , thinks Reisi, but pulls away, all at once, leaves a few feet between them. The worst of the withdrawal lasts maybe a fraction of a second, where the loss of heat is almost excruciating. The rest? Well, he’s always been fairly good at compartmentalizing.

He grins. "What never happened?"

"Like that, is it?" Suoh matches him, grin for grin.

There are, they both know, no hard feelings here. It's what they do, who they are, and Reisi supposes, what makes it work in whatever screwed up way it works.

"I’ll see you around, Suoh. Till then, try not to cause another scene on the local news."

Suoh laughs, and it's genuine. "Gotta keep you on your toes somehow. Otherwise, you’d just get lazy, turn into me, heaven forbid."

Reisi lights up a cigarette before he goes, offers one to Suoh out of habit, an accidental ritual that’s formed between them. He tries not to anticipate the flick of his wrist before it happens, the spark on his fingertips as he lights Reisi’s then his own (tries not to find it beautiful, and spectacularly fails).

Suoh blows smoke towards the sky, all practiced nonchalance, like a ridiculous art form, closes his eyes and takes a drag, savours it. And it’s either Reisi's imagination acting up or he looks younger in this light, something like at ease.

Reisi smiles at the sight, echoes faintly to himself, "Heaven forbid."

 


End file.
